Sunday, October 6, 2019

The Perfect Taper

I just returned from a gathering of bamboo fly rod makers
where I cast dozens of wonderful handcrafted rods, gave casting demonstrations,
and participated in a nice panel discussion.

After these events, it is not unusual for me to go on a
philosophical or thought journey as to what I learned or observed with no end
in mind, and with enough twists and turns or detours in the path as there are
synaptic junctions in my brain. This often results in a headache, and aspirin
might be in order, or a visit to a psychiatrist.

In this case my reflections centered on the design of tapers
for bamboo rods. Some discussions of the legendary rod builder Everett
Garrison, a structural engineer who used an engineering and mathematical approach
to try to achieve a chimeral concept of the perfect taper in a fly rod were
juxtaposed in my mind with the final product on the rod racks outside. Each rod
was different, and each was made by a different builder. No rod had the same
aesthetics.

Would it even be possible to build the perfect fly rod, and
what is perfection exactly?

What is measurable, and what cannot or should not be
measured?

Where do engineering, art, craft, nature’s material, and
casting meet or cross paths?

Can perfection be measured?

Where does the human element come in?

So many questions to explore… so enjoy this little thought
experiment with me…

Lets imagine that there is an engineer working for years in
his attic on the perfect mathematical model for taper design. One day he
finally finishes testing and proofing all the math, and designs a computer
program to reflect it. One simply enters the variables of rod length, line
weight, number of sections, ferrule measurement, etc. into the program, hits
the calculate button, and gets the results. Scrolling through the report
schematics we now have calculated stresses, deflection numbers, measured
diameters at intervals for planing, load calculations, and all the other myriad
elements of structural engineering design right there at our fingertips. Charts
and graphs display the performance of the rod too, so that we can visually see
the calculation’s resulting perfection.

“Excellent,” mutters our engineer, and begins the long
process of splitting the cane, and putting it through all his machines to
bevel, taper, bind, heat-treat and transform the natural bamboo into a blank
ready for hand finishing. Numbers guided the machines through their process,
the cane being ground and shaved to the mathematically perfect model, while the
human hand moved the pieces between the machines.

Finally, the guides were wrapped on, the varnish applied and
let to dry, and eventually the rod was finished. It gleamed with perfection.

Our engineer took the rod out on his front lawn, attached a
reel, strung up the rod, poured himself a half a glass of wine to celebrate the
perfect rod, pulled out thirty feet of line, and with a grin… made the
inaugural cast.

Alas, the puzzled and quizzical look on his face did not
derive from the poor quality of the wine he sipped. Instead, it sprung from the
rather unspectacular performance of the rod. He had expected bells to go off,
epiphanies to form, and a piercing light to part the fogs and miasmas of past
fly rod designs, but what he just experienced was rather anticlimactic.

He cast the rod for an hour, testing the flex with short and
long casts and trying to get a feeling for what the rod was doing. It seemed to
do everything moderately well…. but not

spectacularly. It had no real clunky spots or faults but
also no real shining performance attributes. It was just sort of… fly-roddy in
a non-descript mediocre way.

He went back inside and spent the rest of the week checking
his engineering math and computer program, and finding no errors at all,
re-entered the variable data, getting the same result.

Then he took the rod to his local fly-fishing club, and
asked the members to cast it and provide their feedback. The following is a
faithful recording of the often reluctant but mostly honest commentary:

“Beautiful to look at, but it doesn’t sing to me.”

“A little fast and slow at the same time.”

“A nice rod if you like Wonderbread…”

“It does everything right, but yet something is wrong…”

“It seems to have no real personality…”

“Reminds me of a punch we made at my frat house in college.
We each added different ingredients and liquors until there were over 20
substances in that bowl. It got us drunk, but it tasted like gasoline.”

And finally… “I don’t get it…”

So what went wrong?

Well, from a pure engineering standpoint, nothing did. The
measurements were perfect. It was what could not be measured by engineering and
math, the myriad variables, the human element, the creative process, the lack
of art and involvement, the clinically dry and romantically sterile approach that
doomed the rod to failure.

What if he had succeeded? Where would we go from there? Is
there life after perfection? Would perfection eliminate personality and
diversity? Would uniqueness die under the dissecting table of science? I would
ask him if I could, but I have never met science on the river. If I did ask
science how he felt today, he would probably answer, “Rather methodical, thank
you!”

Imagine a world where every fly rod was the same. It might
make a good horror movie. It could be called ‘Perfection’ because only in the
fantasy world of movies could perfection even exist.

Perfection is a human concept. It cannot and does not exist
in nature. There is no perfect tree, perfect flower, perfect raindrop, or
perfect human. Every object and individual is different in some way, shape, or
form. So is bamboo. It is not a manufactured substance that can be predicted.
It is a natural grass that is effected by the wind, moisture, rain, where it
grows, when it is cut, and how it is stored. One could say that every culm of
raw bamboo has character traits and personality. Now those are human
attributes, but perhaps the human was missing in our perfect fly rod
experiment. Humans can interpret, apply abstract concepts and even imbibe a
fine crafted object with a little of their personality. Mathematics cannot.
That’s not to say that mathematics and engineering should not be a part of the
design, indeed they are necessary and vital, but with a human there to provide
a touch of well… humanity and personality to the process. Machines do not
create, humans do. Machines perform tasks and duplications. Human thought put
them there.

And… of course… a machine will not be casting the finished
bamboo fly rod, a human will.

Each of us has a different casting stroke, a different
approach to casting a fly rod, and a different level of proficiency. There is
no perfect cast as there is no perfect fly rod taper. Even our mood effects the
cast… the mortgage is due… that was a beautiful sunrise… these trout are so
frustrating… I better hurry because I only have an hour to fish… Gosh, I feel
so relaxed…

Another variable that math and engineering can’t take into
consideration is that as individuals with personalities, we each have
preferences; likes and dislikes. One person’s concept of what he or she wants
in a fly rod will contrast and differ with another angler. As the saying goes,
one man’s meat is another man’s poison. That variety is the very spice of life.

If we did in effect achieve some sort of ‘perfection’ that
would appeal to everyone’s differences, wouldn’t we instead have to first
eliminate those differences first in the person and then in the product? We
have been there already, it was the dystopia of soviet era manufacturing which
gave everyone the same cars that barely drove, the same clothing in a shade of
gray, and housing reminiscent of industrial chicken farms.

Diversity comes from craft, from a lack of common approach,
from ideas born and followed without being ironed to perfection. Wrinkles might
just be a good thing.

The rods I cast that day all had different tapers. They all
did something different. I loved the quirks.

One thing a pure engineering and math approach cannot do is
add variations on purpose or by accident to a human design or purpose. If we
did achieve one ‘perfect taper’, and had ten different rod builders build ten
rods off the same taper, all ten would be different. That is because we are not
machines… yet. That cyber A.I. nightmare is around the corner, and until it
arrives, we are still in charge of the creative process.

Engineers may be searching for perfection, but on the other
side of the fence, artists are working toward failure. Huh? Well, artists
unlike mathematical models understand that in an aesthetic sense as well as in
the properties of individual objects or creations, perfection is not just
immeasurable, it also can’t exist. By working toward failure, the individual
artist and craftsperson is always pushing the envelope by asking, “Why not this
or that?”

“What would staggered ferrules do here?… Why do rods all
have to be a common length?… What would happen if I did this?… What if I
hollow-built the butt section?… etc.

These experiments not only give us diversity, but also often
end up in failure. Failure fosters learning. Failure is also fearful. It takes
an intact and secure ego to admit and even celebrate failure in the process of
creative design.

In our ‘engineering only’ design-process, from start to
finish there is little room for deviations.

These deviations are a human element of the artist. A
painter for example has a blank canvas. He or she has a concept in mind and
goes about capturing that concept as a painting which can evolve as it is being
created. Many artists, craftspersons, writers, and composers will tell you that
some of their best work evolved to deviate from the original intent. A bamboo
rod maker that feels the material in their hands rather than pushing it only
through machines may be in tune to the raw material. In other words, the bamboo
might be in charge to some extent, of the evolution of the taper. It may be
able to tell us what needs planing or shaving here and there. This might be
more in keeping with crafting a fine casting fishing instrument out of a
natural substance instead of conquering it or forcing our will on it with a
pure mathematical model.

This is how all artist-quality musical instruments are
crafted. There is an intensive process that involves adaptation in the horn or
violin to achieve a unique and rich sound. That could be comparable to the vibrations
in bamboo listened to by the rod crafter and interpreted into a fine casting
instrument. One can’t really listen very well when machines are making noise.

Which brings us back to the very beginning and Mr. Garrison.
Now before you poor readers of this philosophic detour off the deep end send me
letters excoriating me for some sort of heresy against this fine rod-builder,
let me say that Garrison made a great cane rod; one of the finest out there,
and even if the search for the ‘perfect-taper’ may be illusory, we should still
search for it. For in that search, the conversation continues. The language of
that conversation being perhaps a bit more wine-enhanced and romanticized
rather than mathematical… The ‘perfect-taper’ awaits… if we close our eyes we
almost touch it.

The Classical Angler

Feedspot

Subscribe To Classical Angler

Total Pageviews

Classical angler Guide service and Schools

Driftless trout guide and master classes

Intermediate Wraps:

"If angling is the contemplative sport, as Mr. Walton would have us understand, that contemplation should not be on the final destination, but upon the path that led us there. Let that path not be the easy one nor the commonplace, but one of inner discovery and learning, for that much the better when the fish is finally brought to hand." Erik Helm

"“If the world were clear, art would not exist.” Albert Camus

Followers

A quiet rest stop for we anglers who enjoy tradition and literary effort, and a site that intends to inspire, question, and spur thinking.

There is power in words, and art in the angling which we need to appreciate. as we journey through the riffles of life, never forget the art and the approach are as important as the fish brought to hand.If you like this blog, please tell others about it and link to it.

Comment from the archives: This is the greatest writing on fly-fishing I have ever read since the stories of Traver and MacQuarrie. Your use of analogies and the romance and reference to art are one of a kind. Keep writing and keep this art alive please!